“Yes,” he replied, not giving her any further information. What did Tinkerbell want? If it was business, she’d have come into the office. She looked like she’d been waiting out here for a while.
“Can we maybe go somewhere and talk?”
He stared at her without trying to hide it. She was petite. Her shapely legs were encased in tightly fitted dark jeans and knee-length black boots. She wore a simple black V-neck top thatdipped between her breasts. And those breasts were nice. Very nice. Sawyer would call them unicorn tits. Big natural tits on a smallish woman. Rare as unicorns, according to Sawyer, who was a self-proclaimed expert on tits.
“What about?” he replied in a clipped tone.
“Um, it’s just that ... I think we should ... ugh. I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just say it, Tinkerbell,” Shane ordered.
His order seemed to snap her out of her indecision. She straightened her back and narrowed her eyes.
“Okay, fine. I think my fiancé is having an affair with your wife. April, right?”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a clear baggie containing what seemed to be a red garment. She threw the baggie and Shane instinctively caught it. His movements were swift and practiced, and seemed to snap Tinkerbell out of her anger. She stepped back from him, all of a sudden seeming aware that she was potentially angering a very large man in an almost-deserted car park.
“Recognize that little number?” she asked in a shaking voice, her confidence gone but her mission clearly still important to her.
Shane examined her closely. Then he turned his gaze to the baggie. He opened it and held out a teensy little red silk and lace negligee. He froze. Was this proof enough to prove infidelity and trigger the clause in the prenup?
Tinkerbell stared at him expectantly, giving him a look that clearly said “Well, asshole?”
“Can’t say I recognize this ... thing. But yeah, she probably is fucking your boyfriend. It would be no surprise to me,” he responded.
“My fiancé,” angry Tinkerbell clarified.
“Well, sounds like he’s the ex-fiancé now,” Shane said flatly, moving toward his car.
“Is that all? Don’t you want to talk about it?” Tinkerbell seemed to have dropped her anger and fear, and was now slipping into confusion.
He stopped, then threw the baggie back to her. She shoved it back in her bag. Maybe Tinkerbell could provide some proof. Some skimpy red thing that may or not be April’s was hardly real evidence. Tinkerbell’s fiancé could be fucking some other woman. Or women, plural, though God knows why he’d do that when he had this woman at home.
“Got any proof? Photos? Texts? Videos?” Shane asked.
“Well, no. This is all very new to me. I saw them kissing at a restaurant after he lied to me about being busy for lunch. I went with my friends. They work together. My fiancé is Mason Quinn,” Tinkerbell sucked in her bottom lip again and looked like she was about to cry. Shit, he didn’t want to deal with that. Obviously her relationship with her fuckstick fiancé wasn’t dead like his and April’s was if she was still so emotional.
Fuck, she was beautiful. And she seemed really sweet. Too sweet. Her mannerisms were shy and hesitant, except when he pushed her to state her case. Then she seemed to panic and just blurt it all out.
“And you haven't confronted him?” Shane asked, genuinely curious. Sure, he and April were oddities and led separate lives, but he got the feeling that Tinkerbell and her man were still close.
“No, I wasn’t sure, and then I didn’t want to. He’s away for the next week at a conference.”
“So’s April,” Shane ventured. Quite the coincidence, he thought.
“Okay Tinkerbell. Let’s assume—”
“Anneliese Harris. Or Anna ... I prefer Anna.”
“Okay,Anneliese. I have never heard of your fiancé and April never stops bitching about the people at her work. If she’s fucking him, it makes sense that she’d avoid mentioning him to me. April and I are done. We’ve just not declared it yet. She’s been enjoying my credit cards and I’ve been enjoying her absence. I honestly don’t care, beyond wanting to know the truth for legal reasons. I’d serve her tomorrow if I could prove she was a cheating whore,” Shane finished.
It was the most he’d spoken to her. She stood there, considering his information. Thankfully, the about-to-cry face had morphed into thoughtfulness.
“Okay, so you do want to talk more?” She gave him a hopeful look, like he could somehow solve her problems.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded.
She handed over her phone, which was secured in a bright pink case featuring a picture of Smurfette. How old was she?! Anna seemed to read his mind. “I like Smurfs,” she said simply.
